Life, the universe, and everything · Writing

On motivation

I was listening to an older episode of The Bestseller Experiment while on a run the other day, in which one of the hosts was sharing the story of his wife’s battle with cancer. He said something that really caught me off guard, and really hit me. I’m paraphrasing, but it was along the lines of We only have a finite amount of words in us, so we have to write them while we still have the time.

I don’t know why that stood out to me so much; I usually don’t get inspired by sentimental stories from other people’s lives, and cancer stories are especially annoying (I don’t even like working on cancer projects; so few of them actually turn out meaningful, translatable data. No offense, cancer biologists…it’s just not my interest. At all).

Maybe it was the timing of it. I just had a(nother) mole biopsy come back a little funky, and have an excisional biopsy scheduled for this week that I’m not too thrilled about. It’s not melanoma, just a clump of cells that are high risk for developing into melanoma. I’m not worried at all about the biopsy or even the surgery. It’s just, two weeks of having to severely limit my activity; two weeks of constantly worrying that I’ll tear my stitches; two weeks of bruised skin and just-enough-to-be-annoying pain.

But the show host is right. There is a limit to how much we can get done in our lives. I’ve been promising myself for a couple of years now that I’ll publish my first book and start a career as an author. I promised myself that 2019 will be the year that I actually, for real, self-publish.

And here it is, the beginning of July, and I haven’t made (or attempted to make) any progress.

Because excuses come up. Other things that take up my time. Are those things important? Some of them, yeah – but a good number of them are just time wasters. Procrastinating. Watching endless YouTube videos because the thought of writing down words that I’ll ask someone to pay for is terrifying.

Well, July is my month. I’m going to finish a first, word-vomity draft of my first original fiction novel. I know I can do it; I need to do it. Who knows when I’ll run out of chances to try?

In any case, I can’t run, swim, climb, or even yoga for the next two weeks – now really is the perfect time!

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